


Not entirely

by ChesapeakeStripper



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Will Graham, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Hannibal Lecter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27280132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChesapeakeStripper/pseuds/ChesapeakeStripper
Summary: Hannibal is not entirely truthful still about what he desires in his relationship with Will
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 93





	Not entirely

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at diving into omegaverse and of course t had to be omega Hannibal

It’s just become another step in their everyday lives since the fall, the act of sharing a bed. Hannibal normally stays on his own side while Will has the other half. There are times were they cuddle, nuzzle into one another, but they always tended to wake up separated. Unless Hannibal goes into his heat, or Will enters a rut, by the time the hormones kick in there already at each other, rarely separated, limbs becoming tangled with the other or their bedsheets. Animalistic desires overrun higher brain function and the need to mate, to breed becomes the sole focus for the next few days. 

When a heat hits, it’s about the only time Hannibal shows his omega nature. He mewls, paws at Will some times for his attention or presents himself on the bed, begging to be taken. During times of his heat, Will’s only thought is to satisfy his mate, to give him what he needs, despite the both of them knowing it’s not probable. 

Having been shot by the Dragon, the bullet damaged one of the ovaries, and with his age, Hannibal estimated the chances as slim to non-existent. For Will though, he hadn’t cared too much, apart from after their heats, the first twenty fours hours where Hannibal’s system was still saturated with his hormones. He caught him a few times gently touching his belly, a hand over it protectively before it was torn away. Then there were the hours he devoted into the kitchen afterwards, an escape into something he loved instead, away from the harsh reality of the world and his own biological impulses. 

Naturally, Will never left him alone to stew in his own hormones the day after rational thought returned to them. He would be there, by Hannibal’s side to help him cook, or cleaning up. He’d walk around the house opening the windows to let the fresh air in, and if he did happen to go down to the shops to pick up ingredients, he would also buy flowers. They would be bought home, some left in the living room, some in their bedroom, and some would be taken to decorate the table for lunch or dinner. Then they’d sit there, sometimes into the late hours of the night, talking about literature, philosophy, sometimes their next meal, but what Will enjoyed most was how their fingers entwined after the meal, and didn’t part until they were leaving to go back to bed. 

That’s why it’s surprising to him then, for the eighth time in a row, that he wakes to find he is spooning Hannibal. His leg is draped over him with an arm across his chest to hold him in place, Hannibal’s chest rising and falling slowly, still likely in the depths of slumber, or he is walking around in his mind palace and simply does not wish to dislodge him. Slowly, he rises, smiling when Hannibal doesn’t stir as he leaves the bed. It’s strange to wake up so connected to his mate when they normally don’t. 

He pulls on something casual, grabbing his wallet before he walks back and lets a hand comb through Hannibal’s hair, watching him shift minutely and one eye open, then the briefest hint of a smile. 

“Heading down the street for the paper, would you care for anything?”

“Mmmm balsamic vinegar. We’re almost out.” 

There’s a nod, and as he’s about to turn, Hannibal’s hand takes his own, bringing it to soft kiss his knuckles before he lets it go again, eyes closing as he returns to either try and sleep again, or going to make a memory he does not wish to forget. 

-

The streets of Cuba are small, the architecture varies greatly between districts, though where they reside currently, it is all matching. Old Havana Hannibal had told him when they first came, Will didn’t stop to take it in, more concerned with keeping his eyes on those around them, looking for eyes that seemed to aware, too alert. They are wanted men, despite many believing them to be dead. Others don’t rest so easily however, not when the promise to take everything they hold dear away from them. Alana has the money, the means now to track them down, she knows them both as well which makes it more difficult. But not impossible. He simply goes against the grain at times, like when they first emerged on the streets, needing a car. Hannibal was going to steal something quite mundane, ordinary, what is normally stolen and not looked at. Alana would look though. So they instead went for a Porsche, Will had been quite happy to snatch the keys and take it for a drive, certainly appreciating the engine that had been looked after, he almost felt a pang of sadness when they pushed it into a river. 

Since then he has learned how to walk around the streets and attract minimal attention, the shady parts of the city where people do not pay attention to others, to busy buying what they need from their dealer to the boutique shops and farmers markets that pop up close by where they buy their ingredients before they hunt their meat. As he walks into their normal shop, the lady behind the counter greets him warmly, asking about Hannibal as he asks her for the balsamic vinegar, she goes out the back and brings him a different bottle to the one on the shelves, patting his hand as she tells him its what Hannibal orders in. He thanks her, taking the bottle as he leaves the shop making a mental note to scold Hannibal for it later. They had agreed to avoid ordering things in, Alana would look for the rarified. Even if it might just be a bottle of balsamic. 

As he passes one of the small carts, he stops, there is a sudden urge within him to pick up flowers. The orchids stand out, Red petals with hints of yellow in the centre, freshly picked as always. The stall owner greets him as he takes the flowers he’s seen out of the water, bringing them to his nose as he inhales the aromatic scent, smiling at the fond memories it invokes. Making his selection, he pays and walks a little slower as he takes in the streets around him before finally heading back up the footpath to the house, walking in meet Hannibal in the kitchen. 

Hair falls into the omega’s eyes as he fries eggs, flipping it gently to make the omelette. There is already a cup of coffee on the breakfast bar waiting next to a plate of fresh croissants with butter to the side. He moves, setting the offered flowers on the breakfast bar, taking a seat as he picks up the croissant and a knife, slicing it open to butter it. His eyes fall to the ever so subtle motion of Hannibal’s hand, the hand that rests on his belly for a fraction of a second before fleeting away again. 

The same action Hannibal does after a heat, just like how during a heat Will covers Hannibal’s body, holding him close and spooning him to keep him underneath him, protective. Primal instincts that tell him to cover and protect his mate and the life they might bring into the world. The scent of the flowers today that called to him, an impulse buy, an offer to soothe and shower his mate in affection.

His knife clatters on the bench, the croissant still held in his hand, but his eyes are slightly wide as he stares at Hannibal, who just turns like nothing is out of place and narrows his eyes for half a second. 

“You’re pregnant.”

It all makes sense, his own biology knew before the rational side of his brain had caught on, likely subtle changes in scents. That’s why he’s been waking up covering him, holding him close because there is the desire to protect. 

There is the slightest tilt of Hannibal’s head, then he moves the pan from the stove and switches it off before regarding him again. “I had begun to suspect, just a few days ago. When you pulled me close during the night for the third day in a row.”

“You suspect.” The choice of words tells him enough, Hannibal hasn’t taken a test, but the fact that their own biological impulses are showing is also a good source of evidence on its own. “It’s been two months since your heat… I… I… How?” 

Eyes land on Hannibal, his omega, watching him calmly fold the tea towel he had in his apron, the mechanical movements that he does to avoid showing emotions, while appearing calm. Then Will just wants to scream at him, he swallows it down but still raises his voice. “What did you do Hannibal?”

They’ve lived together long enough that they know when the other is keeping secrets, he thought they had moved past it, but it’s obvious Hannibal has done something. Despite his mask being nearly flawless, Will has larnt to see the subtle cracks at times, how he narrows his eyes or the slightest twitch of his lips at the corners.

“Before my last heat, I started taking fertility supplements.” He’s so calm and placid like its the most natural thing in the world, but that is not why it infuriates Will. 

“I’d know if you were taking supplements.” Because Hannibal couldn’t hide it, not when they share a whole house, not when they kill together. Then it hits him, how Hannibal had ordered vials the month before that he had stored in the basement fridge with the other medical supplies they kept on hand, in case of emergency or if they felt like dragging things out with particular people. “The injections that you bought in, you were injecting yourself.”

Thank god he’s sitting down before he falls down with the sheer enormity of it, with his own mixed emotions. “You went and started treatment, you injected yourself under the guise of getting in sedatives, you lied to me telling me you just wanted to be prepared… How long have you been planning this? When were you going to tell me?!”

“In truth, it wasn’t an outright lie.” A sigh leaves him as he moves closer, a hand coming out to touch Will. 

“Don’t!” Recoiling at the offered touch, he stands quickly moving away from Hannibal with a look of anger and trepidation on his face. It feels just like when Margot had slept with him, simply using him as a means to an end. Worse still, Hannibal has gone back to his old tricks in a way, manipulating the situation to suit his needs and desires regardless of what Will wants. 

“You know why I don’t want children… You even dangled it in front of everyone when you were in prison!  _ You know better than to breed _ .” He spits it with venom as hands come to rub at his temples. 

“There have been many times I wished to bring it up with you, I was waiting for the right moment-”

“No, you were waiting, but it wasn’t for the right moment.” Will holds up one of his hands, he shakes as he points an accusing finger. “You couldn’t keep this from, not something like this, but you would of waited. Probably until you were a few months along, long enough that getting an abortion was out of the question. Long enough to act as though this was a surprise!”

“Will, I’d hardly consider keeping something like this from you for a great period of time.” Hannibal frowns, looking genuinely hurt by the accusation.

“Then why not sit down and discuss that you were thinking about going through with fertility treatments!” Will voice rings in the room, his anger clouding the air around them with a fiery earthy scent that seems to make Hannibal shrink the tiniest fraction. 

The room is silent, both of them simply staring before Will breaks the contact, because he can’t stand to look into his mate’s eyes as he knows the pain his words cause him. They would have sat down to discuss it, but Will would be opposed all the way, he’d definitely use Abigail against Hannibal in some way. But Hannibal did take her from him, with his own hands as Will had watched in his kitchen in Baltimore. Then again, he knew Hannibal had lost his family as a child, how his sister had been taken from him and fed to him unknowingly. Having a child enabled him to have a piece of her back, a family of his own again, to leave a legacy behind, to carry on their lineage. One that Will feels at times should simply finish with them alone and not be carried on. 

“I made a decision.” Hannibal starts, drawing himself up to full height to show the finality of his words, regardless of what Will thinks. “Given my calculations, it was likely to be the last viable chance, I chose. And whatever course of action you may wish to take, I intend to bring them into this world.” 

Will knows Hannibal has already become attached at the choice of words, them. To early to know if it’s a boy or a girl, but regardless, the bundle of cells that grows within him has already become family in his mind. Though he may not see it, feel it, the very concept is what Hannibal has clutched onto.

“It’s not just your body and your choice, Hannibal. You manipulated me into the equation.” He stops, breathing deeply before he says something he will regret, after all, he still loves Hannibal, their bonded. It would not be easy to break and taking off from him now would hurt, likely cause him to miscarry due to the stress of him leaving. Then if he leaves, his own hormones will fight him, make him keen for his mate and crawl back to hold and protect him. It’s a painful process, he’s seen the case studies, and sometimes if they truly break, he’s seen the bodies alpha’s and omega’s at times will leave behind in their disassociated state. The memories of his encephalitis still haunt him, the feeling of losing time and his grasp on reality slipping along with his own sense of self. It’s something he wants to avoid repeating at all costs, and Hannibal knows this because the bastard pried it out of him years ago and encouraged the episodes.

“You’ve put me in a position where I hold no power, and you get to dictate the next move.” 

“Not entirely.”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he lets his eyes meet those maroons that have seen him at his best, and his worst, with power and without, when Hannibal has stripped it away. Right now though, they plead with him. “Do you really think it was suitable to ask for forgiveness instead of permission?”

“Asking for forgiveness is something we are more familiar with than simply stating our desires and asking.”

A hand comes up to rub his temple again, Hannibal’s scent is overpowering his own now, clogging the function of his brain that is starting to tell him to go over to his mate, to pull him close, to hold him, comfort him. But Hannibal is right about them, they act at times, regardless of the consequences of their actions and how it hurts the other, and then they seek forgiveness. Usually by the blade of a knife. That in itself is terrifying.

“I’m going for a walk.” He starts, holding up a hand before Hannibal interjects. “I am going to come back, but I don’t know how long it is going to take for me to process this, for me to accept what you have done.” Taking another breath, he looks up. “I’m not going to ask you to…” He can’t say the words when Hannibal looks at him like that, doe eyes mingled with sadness and yearning, he knows asking Hannibal to terminate would be a devastating blow, his last effort in having a family torn from him by the man that he believes to have loved him. It will eat at him, like Mischa’s death had and how it changed him. “I’m not going to ask that, but you’re going to stay in the master bedroom, you can build your nest to comfort yourself while I stay in the guest bedroom.” He only adds it because he doesn’t know how long it will take him to forgive Hannibal’s actions and come to terms with them.

Dropping his hand, he turns, heading straight for the door, not looking back despite his biological impulses now screaming at him. 

“Will you be coming home tonight?” Hannibal asks, his voice wavering slightly at the end is the only tell on the emotions he currently feels.

“Yes.” He says standing by the door. “Only because I don’t want a massacre and Jack to find us.” Then he leaves, knowing Hannibal is still standing stock still in the kitchen, hand likely over his stomach as he takes in his words. Will can only hope he listens and gives him the time he needs to process.


End file.
